


Obsessions

by oyellowbug



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Cannibal AU, Cannibal Dream, Cannibalism, Gore, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsession, Serial Killer Dream, So scary just shat myself!!, Stalking, Unwanted Gifts, dreamnotfound, just for fun and writing practices :), serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyellowbug/pseuds/oyellowbug
Summary: George, after becoming the roommate of his dear old friend Sapnap in the big states, falls victim to a creature so unbearably hungry for flesh and working organs.Whatever this thing is, it decides to play with its food.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	1. .: Prologue :.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this fanfiction does involve imagery of gore and such. Please don't read further if you find yourself uncomfortable, your boundaries are more important than this <3
> 
> Also - please note that this fanfic is only for fun and isn't meant to be taken seriously. If the creators announce that they are no longer comfortable with being shipped, I will take this down immediately. Thanks <3 
> 
> \-------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❝ DONT PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD ❞

Stifled, straining tunes ran through the waters of the car radio - an ancient pigment that must've gone through thousands of family bloodlines. George had assumed that the car was old, but to think that it was old enough to have a broken radio that could barely even reach a single channel was bothering him. It screeched inaudible noises no matter how many times the cab driver pressed the buttons at the sides and under - however, just as he was about to give up, a song of distinct words flooded through the radio.  
  
As if the volume button had suddenly burnt the tips of his fingers, the man retreated his hand to grip at the car wheel again, puffing out a breath to release the tension within his lungs. He was about to drive onto a highway and he couldn't have any distractions pulling at his focus.  
  
Moving to America wasn't something that George saw himself doing at all - but the urge of escape had pushed him into agreeing to move in with Sapnap, an old friend who he frequently talked to. It costed money - a lot of money - and at this moment in time, he was asking himself if this was the most horrible mistake he had made in his lifetime. He kept swaying from one side to the other; he had always wanted some sort of change to life, but was this really what he wanted? There was one side to his decision that proposed him the benefit of meeting Sapnap and Bad - who was another friend of his.  
  
Though Bad wasn't going to be living with them, he usually talked of how he'd come over and visit them often so they could hang out together. That did excite George about a year ago while he was still living in Britain, but most of his benefits had been forgotten now that he was actually doing it.  
  
The flight from Britain to America had probably been the worst so far; he had, countless times, almost vomited on the plane from motion sickness. There were also worries of if he and Sapnap would really be able to live together - sure, they had been friends for such a long time, but would they be able to live together? Though they had talked about it countless times over call and text, and though George knew that he definitely wanted to stay with Sapnap, there was always a possibility of downfall.  
  
With his eyes focused on the road, the cab driver's hand slowly moved to turn up the radio - just a little bit. George watched his movements, able to tell that the guy was pretty nervous about the highways as well as he was. Highways always got George nervous - a lot of accidents had happened here and he rightfully didn't want to be one of those numbers on the board of "car accidents on the highways".  
Imagine dying right before your fresh start.  
George looked back out the window to distract himself from embedded intrusive thoughts.  
  
It felt as if the silence was uncomfortable for the two of them - the cab driver just didn't seem to want any distraction pulling at him while he was on this road, but during the time when he was driving away from the airport, he couldn't stop asking George questions about Britain, why he decided to move here... Without distracting the driver, George kept his eyes on his window to watch blurs of red, blue, white and black cars pass by.  
  
**❝██████████████- Reports of mutilated victims have been discovered ██ ████ -,❞**  
  
George looked back at his backpack that contained a few things inside. He had a suitcase at the back that had the basic essentials - a toothbrush, toothpaste, basic clothes... he hadn't really panicked while packing his things before he left. Most would think to consider what they were taking with them, but George had been more excited to jump onto the plane rather than think about his suitcase and backpack. It was that knowledge of how the rest of his things would be shipped over to Sapnap's apartment that tugged at his carelessness - besides, he had been waiting for a long time to actually reach his chance of moving.  
  
**❝-missing multiple ██████████ fr████ ████odies. It has been encouraged for the citizens o████████ stay i██████mes dark. Officers from the Depar███████████ ███████████ █████████████ features - a whit████ ████ ████████████ Stay sa-.❞**  
  
The volume of the radio dropped to zero. For the third time, the driver retreated his fingers back to the wheel again. Perhaps the radio wasn't worth the effort after all - the muffling words that bounced off his ears were only plucking at his patience - from what George could tell, he couldn't concentrate on the road properly.


	2. Stay safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George slowly learns more and more about the secret evil that roams close to his location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise to have long chapters in the future!

Everything outside was filled with activity and noise; blurred faces passed by, keeping their eyes either down at their phones or forward to follow the elongated paths that zig-zagged all across the city. The city always had something to say, whether it be the drunken slurs of middle-aged alcoholics coping with mid-life crises, whether it be the amateur street musicians, the angered car horns - George and everybody standing within this city heard everything that was said. He couldn't tell if he enjoyed that or not - cities were both an amazing and terrible experience. Now, he had to live in the middle of one.   
  
"George!" 

The call of his name was caught up within George's wandering daydream. His hands held his backpack up by a strap, and he was gormlessly standing on the pavement leading him towards his destination.

  
Beside him, a grown man was standing there with George's suitcase, waiting for him to answer a question that passed his hearing. It was Sapnap, and seeing his frowning expression caused George to think back on what had been said.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"God, you're really out of it, huh?"   
  
Sapnap murmured a small laugh to himself and pulled the suitcase upon the pavement. "Bet you're exhausted."  
  
"I guess," George managed as one hand moved up to rub an eye. "I'm so ready to go to bed."  
  
"I don't blame you. C'mon."   
  


As soon as they stepped foot inside the building, George made his way upstairs with Sapnap, who just wasn't able to stop talking to him along the way up.   
  
And then came the unpacking. George didn't have his own bed yet, so he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight - and that wasn't a bad thing, according to Sapnap his sofas were actually quite comfortable and he claimed that he had fallen asleep on them many times. George took his word for it, and well, he was right.   
  
"So." Sapnap leaned against his kitchen counter as George fiddled with his tangled headphones. "I... take it that you've heard?"  
  
"Mhm," George murmured, barely paying attention.   
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well, what?"  
  
_"Well,_ what do you think?"  
  
George turned his head to his friend with a frown - a clueless frown that Sapnap recognised all too well. "George," he groaned. "The murders? Killings?"  
  
"A lot of murders and killings happen every day."   
  
"George, you've gotta be kidding me. This guy's all over the news - he's supposed to be a cannibal or something." George, as he watched Sapnap walk to his fridge, attempted to take in his words - words that didn't have a lot of meaning to him.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"For the past few weeks-" He took out two cans of what George presumed to be some sort of alcohol, "-there's been these... _crazy_ murders. I'm talking real crazy - like the really gore-y kinda shit, you know what I mean? Cut open and missing organs, have chunks of flesh ripped out-"  
  
"What? _Here?_ In the city? _"_ George cringed.  
  
"Not yet," Sapnap murmured, handing a can to him. "But they've been pretty close to us. It's not even just murders, dude. People have gone missing too. It just wouldn't be a surprise if they were found dead."  
  
  
"Are you kidding me?" George went blanch, his stomach cramping as Sapnap spilt detail. "I've just gotten here and now there's some psycho around?"  
  
"Well, sorry you've been living under a rock. This is huge, George. I'm surprised you had no idea while you were moving over here. That's why I kept calling you to ask if you were safe."  
  
Sapnap had been calling him as soon as George left Britain. Now that he thought back on it and counted, Sapnap must've called him over twelve times until George finally texted him. He had assumed that Sapnap might have just been worried over his journey, but as it turned out, it wasn't the journey that had been bothering him.   
  
"Okay, well, whatever," George murmured, snapping open the top of the can, but as soon as it opened he realised that it probably wouldn't help with his stomach. Instead of drinking it, he placed it down on the counter. "As long as it's not happened here."  
  
"I mean, I can't see us being effected," Sapnap openly admitted. "We live in a city surrounded by people - I doubt this guy's gonna wander up a ton of stairs just to get to us."  
  
He was right. While they were living in the middle of the city, there was little to no chance of this guy wandering in to get another kill. There was a much higher chance of getting murdered by another person in the city rather than this psycho, but even that wasn't a comforting thing to think about, so it didn't change much of George's perspective.   
  
"We'll finish unpacking tomorrow - let me make you something to eat first." Sapnap took the first sip from his can, but as he moved to set it down and reach into the fridge again, George stopped him with a dismissive;  
  
"Don't bother."  
  
"Not hungry?" Sapnap asked with a small frown.  
  
George glanced at him to nod, confirming his assumption.  
  
"I've lost my appetite."   
  
\-----------  
  


The rain was poetry, written by the sorrowful clouds above the earth, and a pitter-patter which kissed whatever it landed on. From outside of the apartment's large living room window, droplets of clear tears clung to the glass, then slipped down to its demise soon after arriving. As a kid, George had always done that thing where you'd watch droplets race down to the bottom of the windowsill - but now as a young adult, not many found that to be entertaining as it had been as a youth.

Sat upon the sofa, George typed away at the dimly lit laptop. It was dark inside the living room; the lightbulb had dimmed down so much that it barely held any use. The best light source he had was the TV and laptop at the minute. His fingers flexed from one direction to the other, pressing down on various lettered buttons, which further extended his notes on his document. As nerdy as it sounded to write up a document about his travels and thoughts, there was barely anything to watch on TV but the news at that time at night, and it turned out even after convincing himself that he was exhausted, he still couldn't sleep. His appetite had slowly come back over the hours and while he was treating his stomach he wanted to do something. Besides, it was nice to train your writing abilities and note takings.   
  


George took a break from typing and leaned backwards, stretching out his arms and groaning as the feel of his cramped muscles gave relief to his body. After providing relaxation to his muscles, he slumped backwards and wrapped the white, fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He blankly gazed at the moving screen before him. It was the same old stuff for the news; formally dressed man and woman - one or the other - talking of different topics: politics, miserable weather, crimes, etcetera. It wasn't any different from home's channels - well, that's something that's stayed the same for him.   
  
Just by staring at the moving pictures of apparent reality, his eyes became quite limp and heavy in response.

Reality truly was a big bore.  
  


**'' Cases of murders and assaults have been rising in regular occurrences for over the past two weeks. Various stabbing and or bite wounds around the neck-''**

George, with his head resting against the arm of the sofa, drifted away into a long, deep slumber. 


	3. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George isn't able to get back home late at night without either walking or waiting for a bus.
> 
> While waiting, he meets an intriguing stranger.

George hadn't counted or taken notes, but it had roughly been around four weeks after the first news report. Ever since then, he hadn't stopped hearing about it. The radio spoke of it, giving updates on the situation. All he took note of was that they somehow hadn't found this psycho yet. Of course, that worried him; a serial killer was hollering around the place, snatching those whoever caught their eyes first and doing god only knows what with them before sealing their fate.

Despite that, George had managed to get hold of a job at some clothing store inside a mall. The pay was what he was looking for, so for now, he was stable with his own money. He had a constant worry of inability to pay for himself, but in the end, they had accepted him after a tiring interview. From then on he worked on different days; sometimes he'd be up early on a morning, then another day it'd be later in the evening. The earlier he worked, the earlier he got to return home. It was the same for waking up later. 

He had more hours to count if he woke up later than eight o'clock in the morning, which wasn't too much of a bother, but seeing as Sapnap had his own job to tend to, he realised that their time differences would prevent them from seeing each other that much through the week.  
  
It was a bummer, really, but sooner or later George was planning to get a better job than this.  
  
Though he couldn't exactly say his job was enjoyable, his boss wasn't too bad. He went by Kevin, a simple name that was easy to remember, and he treated you well if you worked right. Once accepted, Kevin welcomed him within his big arms and went easy on him for the first week until he got the hang of the environment.

The first few days of Sapnap driving George to work were absolute chaos; the traffic almost made him late for his shifts. It never seemed to go down. So, he decided to rely on public transport from now on. He didn't want to have Sapnap constantly driving him in, nor wanted to leave him stranded in the middle of a traffic jam. From now on, he relied on buses and cabs.

His job was quite simple; he was to assist customers who came by, tidy up isles and restock empty shelves.

  
Unfortunately for George, this was one of the first bad days he had in work - and he was expecting more to come soon enough. But, on the bright side, his shift had eventually come to an end. At this point in time, he was dying to get back to the apartment to sleep off the stress he had to endure today.  
  
Putting away his apron, George got ready to leave. He only needed to fold up two more pieces of clothing and then he'd finally be able to get the hell out of here.

"George!" Kevin called from the back. "C'mere for a minute - I need you."

He almost rolled his eyes, but instead he puffed out a breath. He wandered to the back of the store and entered the staff room - which wasn't at all that big. The only accessories inside were a few chairs, two tables, a coffee machine with a microwave at its side, a coat hanger - very basic things that provided little assistance to workers.

"I need you to do a favour for me before you leave." Kevin was hurriedly pouring himself a slug of black coffee inside a silver thermal cup.

"Yeah?"

"So, my wife has to go out to work soon. I need to get home as soon as possible so that I can take care of my six-year-old daughter - but..." he trailed off, turning around quickly to put his cup inside his green canvas bag.

George slumped his shoulders. He knew exactly where this was going. "But...?"

 _"But_ I found a huge mess in a few of the changing rooms. Clothes all over the place, spilt slushies, god almighty - there's a huge pile of clothes in one of them. Can you stay and clean it up? I'll give you the keys to close the shop. Just come in early on your next shift to open it and wait for me."

Glancing at the ticking clock hung up on one of the creme coloured walls, George bit down on his lip out of concern for the timing. **  
**

"Kevin - I don't know," he managed, looking back at him with an uneasy look.

"You don't know?" He picked his bag up and put it over his shoulder, planning to leave anyway despite George's worry. 

"It's gonna get dark soon."

"... the problem is?"

Is this guy serious?

"The... _murders_? You know what's been going on, right? It's dangerous to go out alone. I-"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, George," Kevin laughed at him. "The big bad serial killerisn't going to get you. These things have been happening away from the city. You're gonna be surrounded with people. Cities are always alive."  
  


While the cities being alive part was true, the "away from the cities" part wasn't. It definitely wasn't as common as it was outside, but four people from inside the city had been victims of the ordeal.  
  
One of them, in particular, had died in such a vicious and brutish way that whenever George recalled on watching the report with Sapnap, his stomach cramped and pulled at his nausea. In the moment of Kevin's talk, George recalled of the news report on the victim's death.  
  
He was a father - a man of love and care, or so they described him to be. His body had been strung up above his own bed, mangled arms barely holding onto the rest of his body by skin and flesh, and placed in a starfish position. There, his wife found him.  
  
George only wanted to be safe. He didn't want to end up like that.

"Four-"

 _"Four_ people," Kevin pushed. "Four people versus tens of thousands of people. That's barely anything. Listen, you'll be fine. Get yourself a cab."  
  
George bit at his lip. He had no money - he had spent the last of his money on the cab that had brought him there that morning. "I don't have money," he almost pleaded. "I won't be able to pay."  
  
"Get your roommate to pick you up, he wouldn't mind, would he?"  
  
"He's still at work-"  
  
"For god sake, then get a bus, George. There's gotta be some other guys waiting for the bus as well." George could hear the bother in Kevin's tone. "Listen, I gotta go. Just make sure you clean this up and lock everything up before you leave. Sorry for pushing this onto you last minute."  
  
He knew that Kevin didn't really mean that. His hand shoved the shop key's into his palm and off he went, calling a "goodnight".

Maybe he was right.  
There was a low chance of George being a victim himself.

With a struggling moment of reassurance, George finally convinced himself not just to leave the mess and go home. He began to clean up a mess that wasn't his to clean with a mocking murmur of complaints being pushed beneath his breath.   
  
\-------------  
  


_"There's gotta be some other guys waiting for the bus as well."_

Bullshit.

George had locked up the shop like Kevin had told him to, comforted by the statements he had made to justify why he should stay and clean up a mess for him.

But it all ended up being for nothing.

It was dark out, and the city lights had been lit up to keep its spirit alive. The mall's car park was packed with vehicles, and people were still wandering in and out to get to different shops and fast foods from inside. That kept George's comfort for a long while until he left the area to get to the bus stop. It wasn't supposed to be too far out, but the longer he walked, the more doubtful he became of that thought.

Lesser people were walking by the closer he grew to the bus stop. Now, this is when he began getting nervous. The path became emptier after he arrived and sat himself down on the bench. Luckily for him, a glass shelter had been provided for this particular stop, which was good news considering that it was beginning to rain. However, he was freezing - he had hugged himself for a small bit of warmth.

Nobody was passing by or was waiting for the same bus. Barely any cars were passing by. George was alone.

_Oh, but at least the shop's fine and dandy._

To spare himself from possibly bursting a blood vessel, George pressed earbuds in and turned up the volume of music on his phone. It wasn't going to help his exhaust by throwing a fit about a bad workday; expressing his anger was only going to drain more of his energy. A nice, comfy sofa was waiting back at home for him to jump on again. As soon as his head would hit the pillow, he'd be out in seconds. Knowing that made him smile - well, only a little bit.

The music was getting him into his comfort zone again, but he was still wary. Sometimes buses showed up late. 

_  
What if you were dead by the time it had arrived?_

Taking in a breath, George waved the intrusive thought away and closed his eyes to block the sights from in front of him. There was no need to look at that moment; he only wanted to listen.

Slowly, carefully, the anger within him died down the longer he stayed like that. The strings of melody stung at his head comfortingly, hushing him into a state of thought. Again, his eyes opened to watch the lightning strike from within the grey gathering of clouds. It was an odd shift of view; he had been so sure that this night was so disgustingly ugly and cruel from the rain, the coldness and the personal bad day he had encountered. Though, now, the night seemed to be reaching out to him as an attempt to comfort his struggles for today. From the night show to the sudden softness within the rain droplets, he felt at ease again.

Crossing one leg over the other, his tired eyes trailed to the board that stated the times of the buses again.

Seventeen minutes left to wait. Time was going so slow.

With a small breath exhaling through his nose, George's hands moved to take to the earbuds out. The music faded away with them, and the sounds of the wind, rain and thunder welcomed his hearing back once again. His head lopped to the side, facing the glass wall that held up the curved roof above his head. The sounds weren't as bothersome now. It was just time that seemed to be going so annoyingly slow.

The glass held waving reflections of himself and the small details around him; the flickering lamppost on the other side of the shelter, the rain droplets from outside, the darkness encasing most of the path that he had walked down, and a figure looming on his far-right with their hooded head hanging down.  
  
George prevented himself from moving.  
  
A figure - a new detail that he had completely missed in the reflection, a detail that had appeared so abruptly that George had almost jumped in fright. But, instead of moving, he forced his muscles to lock in place just to prevent himself from doing anything sudden.  
  
Steadily, his head finally moved only slightly to glance at the stranger out of the corner of his eye.

The reflection hadn't been as clear as he had wished for it to be. As he caught glimpse of them, their head shifted so fleetly that George had failed to stop himself from flinching his head away again. His cold hand reached up to his chest to grip at his shirt's fabric - his heart was beating at his ribs while flushing supplies of blood through his tensed muscles. 

They had been looking at him; their head hadn't moved to look right back at him, their head had moved away from his direction. 

Time had lost track itself now. George didn't know how long it was going to take the bus to arrive. At this point, all that was for him to do was to hope, pray and beg for whatever god there was to give him a break already - for them to at least allow the bus to arrive early.

Sitting there in a tensed and hunched over position, he couldn't help to be so cold that he felt as if he were succumbing to the cruel winds that were attempting to pushing him closer to the stranger. The longer they stood there, the longer they moved their head to look at him again, the longer they watched him for, the more he wanted to run for it.   
  
But where would he be able to go? There were barely any cars, barely any life here. It got him so confused - this was supposed to be apart of the city, right? The mall wasn't even that far away, surely a fair amount of people should be around here. All of those hopes were nothing but a fantasy for him now.

  
  
Time passed, that's for sure, but there were so many minutes left. How George was still able to breathe for this long was amazing. He hadn't moved for at least ten minutes now - surely, it must've been passed ten minutes now, right?

Eyeing at his side again, he could still see the figure standing there - but it was only just that they weren't leaning against their wall anymore.

They had moved closer to him. They had moved a few inches. They knew that George could see them.

_Please. Please go away._

Movement - he could see movement from out of the corner of his eye - they were _moving._

Looking down at the ground, he caught their shadow.   
  
It was so close to his.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Despite his attempts to hide it, he was absolutely terrified, and it was so obvious to see. They had to have known his fear - they had to have been tormenting him to drive more fear into him because they found it funny or something inhumane like that.

Moving a limb was hard enough, but looking at them would probably be impossible. However, he caught his eyes moving ever so slowly. They trailed over the ground, stopping at the stranger's feet. They wore thick boots that protected their bare feet from getting wet, their laces tied tightly enough so that they wouldn't dare come undone. Forcibly, his gaze moved upwards - over their old, black jeans that were damped from the rain to their green hoodie that owned a stain of crimson at the far bottom.

Finally, George looked at their face, only to find that they were gazing back at his.

Then, without hesitating for another second, he ran.


	4. Taunting Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A predator catches its prey.

His quick feet slipped outwards to reach freedom, creating a stumbling start to the sprint. The frost of the rain and wind hammered at his skin to split his calm breaths ragged, and there began the greed of his lungs that shocked his throat. A mixture of his sweat and the tears of the rain slid down his creamy skin as blood pumped around his body so quickly to provide more oxygen, but despite how his own body was attempting to aid him, the quick building acid within his legs and lungs rushed to dig into his spine.   
  
As soon as he had leapt up and off of the bench, grimy gloved hands had reached to grab him in which he had seen in the blurriness of his rushing motion. But whatever the case was, it didn't stop him from running a mile if it meant getting to a public place. If he had been on the other side of the shelter, turning around to go back down the path where he came would have been an easy choice, but whoever he had made eye contact with took away that choice by standing there instead. If George had crossed them to reach the path, they would have easily grabbed him. The only chance he had of turning himself around was to run over the road and slowly rotate his direction before he ran into the forest on the other side.  
  
George could hear the swift steps attempting to close the distance from behind, but they were so loud and in tune with his that he couldn't even tell if his pursuer was close or not. They were teasing at the fear he could fathom in the midst of the moment, beckoning him to have a small glimpse over his shoulder, pulling at his terror.   
  
And so he gave in. His head swiftly turned to glimpse over his shoulder, the blurriness of rain, wind and fast movement pushing away any clear sight.   
  
They were right behind him, and they were faster than George, too. Soon enough, they'd be able to catch up to him, considering how slow George was compared to their sprint.  
  
Seeing how close his fate was, George took in faster but ragged breaths as he forced his legs to take him further away. All plans had collapsed and he was heading straight for the forest, and though he knew that it was stupid, his body was just wanting to keep the distance between them, no matter how long it meant for him to keep running. If he didn't push himself into aching muscles, then there was no way that he was going to survive. If he were to fall or make a small slip up, he'd definitely be dead before he'd be able to get back up again. It seemed like this guy had no intention of letting him leave that easily. They saw the opportunity of them both being alone and pounced, though they took their time about how they were going to do it.  
  
Before George could prepare for the impact, the world whirled by in a quickened blur so fast that he had barely caught onto the idea that he was falling. A force against his back whipped the air from his lungs and stole the next breath he was wishing to take in. With the skin of his hands and knees skidding against the dirty ground, a heavyweight formed on top of his body. Cold hands, gloves wet with red, clutched at his wrists to lock their eager twitches and wriggles. A pressure skidded the skin of his hands against the wet gravel of the road.   
  
The ability to see clearly was a struggle. His eyes spun around to look for a focus to settle on during the stirring movements, but it took a long, long moment for his realisation to come around. His head had scraped against the ground during his fall, where small grazes of dirt and blood joined together against his temple. Swaying from one side to the other, his perception settled on the clear drips of jarring water, crafted from the inky murk above. They splashed at his forehead, his neck, nose, beneath his eyebags - anywhere at his exposed skin to call for his senses to react. He squinted his eyes, desperate for one clear image to lean towards him.   
  
That desire came - but it's not the sight that he had hoped to see. His gaze couldn't avoid what was right above him. Encasing George within a darker shadow was a looming form of a man, features hidden behind a circular white mask with the same smile that George had faced from before. The smile had been carved in with black paint, the curving line for its mouth reaching under the small dots that represented eyes.   
  
It hadn't just been the mask that had caused George to run. The mixture of fresh crimson and dried maroon upon the whiteness of the mask clenched at his terror - and it wasn't only the thing that mimicked the blood on the man, it was all over him. George had caught the first stain of crimson at the bottom of his hoodie but as his eyes had roamed further up, he realised that there was plenty more to greet his gaze.   
  
With hitched breaths, a swelling caved down into George's gut. After the realisation of his vulnerable state, his body twitched and wriggled to form any sort of fight, but the weight of his captor was pinning most of his movement down beneath him. It was so useless at this point to try, but going down without a fight seemed worse than accepting submission.   
  
There was barely much that he could do as his wrists were moved down to his hips. With both legs placed at his sides, restraining George's arms and torso from movement, the man straddled him down. Within the dimmed hue of a street light, a flash of brightness struck at George's eyesight for just a moment. He was pulling an object out - a weapon of some sort, George assumed, the thing that was to put his resistance to an end. He would have screamed, he would have cried, but his throat was clogged with the greed of air.   
  
"Please," he whispered through his cold breaths. "Please, _please-"_  
  
For a moment, he stopped the useless wriggling and stared up at the concealing mask. The side of his head was numb but itched at a small stinging sensation. He couldn't think straight, his sight was dizzy with flashes of blurs, and his body was trembling from the cold and terror he was enduring.   
  
The tip of a sharpened dagger extended to George's chin, lifting it to expose the length of his throat. Lightly, it scraped over his delicate skin hiding his tender flesh from behind, then made its way down to his collarbone. George whimpered at the taunting fear, which pulled a harsh chuckle from the man who watched the smallest of his reactions.  
  
One flick and the layers of skin would have split to spill blood. Eventually, it reached the side of his neck and, without warning, dug into his skin and zipped open a long, fresh cut.  
  
At long last, a scream erupted from George's throat - maybe not from the pain, but from how close he was coming to his fate. The smallest of cuts would inevitably lead to a mangled corpse. He imagined all of the possible ways he would die, how creative of a murderer this man could be.   
  
The head moved and so did the mask. A fingerless gloved hand pushed it upwards until it reached a freckled nose and a pair of lips that parted. He bowed his head down to the side of George's neck, where cold wetness greeted the skin and the small wound.  
  
A chilled shriek shot through George's spine. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes closed to avoid having to look anywhere. His blood oozed into the predator's mouth, hands with elongated nails digging into his shoulders as if he was wanting to keep them from wriggling. There was only ever one time when he pulled away - and that was only to murmur words against George's neck. His voice was deep, though wispy and just as cold as his tongue.  
  
"No," he murmured. "You're more of a meal than a snack."  
  
George opened his eyes, tears welling up his vision, and parted his trembling lips. "What?" He quivered, having no understanding of what that meant until he repeated the sentence over in his head.  
  
That cut was only a taste test of some sort - he was _taste_ testing him. As much as George refused to admit it to himself, it was clear enough that he had fallen victim to the cannibal that everybody had been talking of on the news and small conversations of gossip from work. Even Sapnap couldn't get enough of talking about it - George never got a break from hearing about it.   
  
As a last sudden outburst of desperation, George opened his mouth and responded in a similar fashion to how his tormenter had. A forceful push rose his head up to the neck of the figure, and there he slammed his teeth down into the skin, where the man recoiled in pain. From there, George pushed every strength he had left into struggling.  
  
But his attacker wanted things to speed up; he didn't have time for a fight. Despite this area being empty, anybody could walk around the corner and see what was unfolding in the middle of the road. He had to move George somewhere - and he knew exactly where.  
  
He glanced upward, catching sight of the forest sitting behind the bus stop. He must've emerged from there while George hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings.  
  
He arose from on top of George, grabbing him by the arms without recognition of his struggles. George lashed out in any possible way he could to slow the process of being dragged towards his death bed. His legs scraped against the road as he was taken closer towards the wave of trees - the trees that were going to assist in hiding his corpse from anyone who could be looking for him.  
  
Was there a point of fighting anymore?  
  
George's fighting came to a stop as tears dripped down. He was going to die. End of - there was nothing that he could do about it. Perhaps some poor soul would wander too far and find him dead in the cold mud. Bugs would bite beneath the flesh under his fingernails, and his skin would be ripped from the claws that had ragged him around, the dirt of the ground would be smothered all over his clothes as he was dragged.  
  
This was how he was to leave the living.   
  
  
A flash of brightness encased over him. It was so immediate that George flinched his face away from where it was coming from. The dragging had come to a stop. The sound of a door opening came forth, and the grip around his arms loosened until he no longer felt it.  
  
_"Get the fuck away from him!"_  
  
A familiar shout waved through the ringing in George's hearing, but It grew quieter after that.  
  
George's gaze fixated on staring through heavy clouds of dizziness and blur.  
Then a cold breath entered through his dry mouth. As if he had only just learnt how to breathe again, he took in heavy wafts of air that soothed his burning throat and lungs. Slowly, carefully, his consciousness drifted further down into a hollow space of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm I'm not so proud of this one:/ I'll get the next chapter up when I can, thank you so much for stopping to read this trash lol <3


	5. Narrow Dismissal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap comes across a sight he never thought to see.

Heavy swellings of droplets splashed against the windscreen of Sapnap's car only to be gushed away by extending wiper blades.    
  
The tales told by the radio were the same; the podcaster discussed the new talk of the city, about the serial killer that was still, somehow, on the loose. It was beginning to crush people’s lack of sensitivity and reaction to it, because every week it was getting worse with the amount of missing people reports and deaths.    
  
The deaths were only expanding in viciousness. He recalled sitting on the couch with George at his side, watching as the lady sitting at the circular desk described a patterned genocide of victims in heavy slumber. That was only a week ago and, from glancing at him in the corner of his eyes as the woman continued to speak, Sapnap recognized that George was growing increasingly paranoid about it. He was too.    
  
Soon after, they had called Bad to check in on him. He was fine, seeing as he lived nowhere near the city, but he seemed to be stressing over their safety more than they were.    
  


An abrupt flex of frustration spat at Sapnap’s patience, and his hand reached to turn the radio off. He slumped in his seat slightly, roughening the grip on the wheel.   
  
Work had been rough. Usually, Sapnap dealt with the surprise of bad days pretty well, but today had utterly drained him. It could've been from extra hours he'd been set, but he wasn't entirely sure.    
  
George had moved over not long ago, and yet they were barely seeing one another through the week. He couldn't imagine how George was feeling about it - if anything, he was probably regretting the choice of moving over here now that things were rapidly going downhill. 

  
He shook his head and kept droopy eyes on the road, hueing up the dark with his car lights. He really couldn't wait to get home already and sleep.    
  
Two sharp outlines struck in the distance. Darkness caved in around the blurs, which motivated him enough to sit up straighter than before to lean forwards.    
  
Whatever struggled in the darkness was moving in one spot, but until his car lights spilt over to identify the movement, Sapnap was able to see clearly.    
  
One was dragging another. The light had gripped at their fullest attention.   
  
“Oh my god.” The unsteady shaking within his hands loosened the grip on the wheel. “Oh,  _ shit- _ ”    
  
George; his arms, marked with dirt and blood, were held in the grip of a man above him.    
  
Sapnap’s gaze locked with the mask that hovered over his body. It was hard to see detail, but Sapnap caught the steady movement of the man slipping George’s arms out of his hold - and there he laid, unmoving.    
  
With the absence of thinking, Sapnap unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed the door open to get out.    
  
“Get the fuck away from him!” He yelled.    
  
The stranger tilted his head at him. He wasn’t moving.    
  
“I said fucking  _ move!  _ I’ll run you down, mother fucker, I’ll kill you-”    
  
His tone was cut short as he watched the figure kneel down by George, who was out cold. His hands, guilty with red and dirt, peeled him off of the floor and rested him against his side with the support of his arm wrapped over his shoulder.    
  
“Don’t -” Sapnap felt his terror pinch at his chest. “Don’t you dare.”    
  
He only just managed to pick up the amused huff from behind the mask. His eyes followed the fingerless gloved hand cupping at George’s chin reposition where it gazed. It was only then that Sapnap noticed the sharp fingernails accompanying his hands. They could’ve been claws if anything - Sapnap couldn’t tell.   
  
“Go on,” he heard him say mockingly. “Run me down.”    
  
“Who the hell are you?” Sapnap stayed glued by his car door. If only he had a weapon. “I don’t know what you want, but I’ll give you it, just…” he gestured to George carefully. “Let him go, yeah? He’s not worth much, I swear.”    
  
The man pulled up a dagger so suddenly that he jolted out of fear.    
  
“Is it money you want?” He watched the tip of the dagger trail against the skin of George’s neck. “I’ll give you all I have, I’ll-”    
  
George squirmed lightly as if he was ready to wake, and the dagger applied itself heavier against his throat.    
  
“ _ Please-  _ God, let him go.”    
  
The mask locked eyes with him again.    
  
“Don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” He cooed at him as if he was a child. “Do you know him?”    
  
His hand tilted George’s head back, and the dagger was mocking Sapnap's nerves. Sapnap’s silence to the question drew out his answer.   
  
“Wouldn’t hurt to share him for once. I’ve grown to like him.” Sapnap winced as he cracked a chuckle.    
  
George murmured a small groan in his slumber. He could wake up at any moment and, who knows, make things worse by struggling. One swift motion and his throat would be spilling crimson.    
  
“He’d taste like shit,” Sapnap tried, carefully moving away from his car. “He would.”    
  
“Oh, come on, now…” The man ran his nail over a small cut at the side of George’s neck. It was spilling fresh blood. “I don’t think so.”    
  
“What - you’ve…” Sapnap swallowed. “You drank his blood?”    
  
Of course he did. Sapnap knew exactly who this guy was, and there was no hiding it.    
  
Silence strained in between them. Sapnap’s eyes were on the dagger.  
  
The quiet was only broken once George’s lids fluttered open to greet the darkness of the sky. His head flew down from the position it had been placed in and, just as Sapnap had predicted, he dove into struggling. Though, he wasn’t able to reach far.    
  
As his head came downward his lips parted to make noise, but he was hushed by the cannibal’s hand. His head was forced to face the sky.    
  
“George,” Sapnap tried. “George, stop moving-”   
  
“Morning, Sunshine,” the cannibal cooed at his prey.    
  
The cannibal broke the locking gaze he had with Sapnap.    
  
“Try not to move,” he murmured into the squirming man’s ear. “Or you could cut yourself-” the tip of the dagger pressed at his throat tauntingly. “-  _ real  _ bad.”    
  
Behind his hand came noises of distress - tired and weak distress. With just his hand clamped over his mouth, he could feel George’s weak squirms that barely mustered up any effect. He didn’t understand what had tired him out so quickly to the point of falling unconscious, but then he guessed that it was more likely out of fear than anything else.    
  
Still, though he had fallen unconscious, the cannibal had expected a bigger and louder struggle once he awoke again. That’s all it was; fun and games that he loved to play with whoever he had hooked within his fingers.    
  
His eyes shifted to the dagger again, and he watched as it trailed over the skin to make pretty patterns.    
  
The blood that had oozed into his mouth hadn’t been near enough. He had no clue as to who this was, nor did he care, but one thing’s for sure; he was delicious, and was worth more than just a wasted snack. Usually, he had to eat quickly, he had to cut up large chunks of flesh from their bodies to take with him before he ran for it.  
  
He was bored with constantly snatching and running. He needed a meal to enjoy and take his time with. Maybe he would play around with his food for a little bit before he left him as a pile of flesh and bone.    
  
He looked up again to Sapnap. He was gone.    
  
The murderer stood up swiftly, taking his dagger away from George’s neck as he dragged him up with him. His head whirled around the area, dagger pointing outward.    
  
A smashing ache slammed into the side of his head, forcing him into George, who fell on impact, and stumbled over him. His head pulsed, and he felt at the mask that had almost been torn from his face by whatever had struck him so violently. As he turned, a flash of blur weaved by his mask, barely missing him.    
  
Within seconds, Sapnap had tackled himself into the murderer’s body.    
  
While he attempted to step to the side to avoid the contact, he was too late as he and Sapnap dove further up into the wet road.    
  
George scrambled himself onto his back, feeling at his throat as if looking for a cut that spewed out blood violently. It took a second for him to realise what was happening.    
  
Sapnap had himself beneath the cannibal, only just managing to throw scratches and punches, but compared to the man above him he was useless.  
  
Hands closed tightly around his throat, nails digging through his skin.    
  
“You aren’t very bright,” he murmured down at him. He shifted one hand away from his throat, but the other continued to apply the pressure. He felt for the dagger that he had momentarily dropped to shove Sapnap off from on top of him, but feeling at emptiness caused his head to turn.    
  
Just as he turned his head, he only caught sight of a pair of shoes before a piercing pain lodged its way into his back. He recoiled, muffling a yell of pain, and was shoved off Sapnap's body. There, he laid, hand reaching for the object that had been plunged into his back.    
  
By the time his hand was wrapped around it, the two men were running for the car to escape. At that moment, his eyes were only fixated on George, and while sliding the dagger from out of his back, he followed behind.    
  
Sapnap returned to the driver’s seat and reached over to open the passenger’s door for George. “Hurry up - George - hurry the fuck up!”    
  
George slid his way in through the door and slammed it. As soon as the door closed, Sapnap locked themselves in.    
  
A bang splattered against George's window, erupting a scream from his sore throat. All he could see clearly was the mask gazing at him through the window, but soon enough thee hilt of a dagger came down at the corners to smash it open.  
  
"Sapnap, go!" George pleaded. "He's gonna-"  
  
Before he could finish, Sapnap had slammed his foot down on the clutch. He swerved down the road.   
  
George looked at the back window, chest bopping up and down to snatch breaths.   
  
The figure of the cannibal stood within the murk of rain and shadows. He watched the car as if he could see George looking back at him. That was enough to have him rip away his stare.   
  
"As soon as I get home," he quivered, tears building up within his puffy eyes. "I'm gonna quit my job."   
  
"George, not the time. Do you have your phone?" Sapnap asked, struggling to put his seat belt on.  
  
George looked down at himself, then felt at his pockets. "No," he managed. "I dropped it."   
  
"Pick mine up. It's in that glove compartment. Call the police."   
  
George did as he was told, but his hands shook as he dailed in the number. He only just managed to steady the phone up to his ear as he waited for an answer.   
  
  
_911, what's your emergency?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh so sorry for the delay! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I hope you can wait :) <3


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